


Skipping Stones

by dragonswithjetpacks



Series: Ferelith Moonshade - The Book Keeper [2]
Category: Baldur's Gate, Forgotten Realms
Genre: F/M, Fluff I guess, casual conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28745973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonswithjetpacks/pseuds/dragonswithjetpacks
Summary: When Ferelith is bothered by the outcomes of the day, she turns to the lake to grant her some comfort.
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/Female Charname (Baldur's Gate)
Series: Ferelith Moonshade - The Book Keeper [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092497
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Skipping Stones

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly... this sparked by the idea of wanting to punch the druids in the face.  
> It also gives a bit more to the beginnings of their "friendship", though not so hostile just yet.

"You seem a little put off this evening," he said, leaning back against the log, warming the bottoms of his boots by the fire.

Ferelith narrowed her eyes at him, not saying a word. Her skepticism from that morning had not left.

"Fine," he rose his hands in the air. "It's not as if you're a delight to talk to, anyway."

"Provoking her won't get a response," Shadowheart muttered as she passed by.

She was wrong, but Ferelith appreciated the statement nonetheless. And oddly, she had the feeling Astarion was well aware because the smirk never left his face as his eyes continued to stalk her. The uneasiness made her shift, the pressure of his gaze causing her to turn her back. There were times she was disgusted by the way he openly admired her, his eyes filled with no shame as they stretched over her body. She knew she wasn't the only that felt it. Still, there was no point in bringing further attention to it. It would only bring him more joy to know they suffer at a simple glance.

Frustrated, but not enough to make anything of it, she began to open her books and search both them and her mind for a solution to the druid problem she had encountered that morning. The night had passed, and she had drown herself in words, lost with only the fire crackling like whispers in her ear. Between the shouting in her head and the words at her fingertips, she had been well distracted. By the time she came to, it had been long past nightfall. Possibly even midnight. She looked about her with the realization that no one was awake. And if they were, they were not nearby. Shutting her book quietly, she rose to cross the camp, careful on her feet.

There was a small lake close to camp in which she had found to be comforting at times. During nights, just like this, she took off her boots. She dipped her bare feet into the water. And she let the rise and fall of the water lapping the bank wash over her toes. She walked along the water's edge, picking up stones whether they were pretty or simply just flat. She would put a few in her pocket and the others she palmed in her hands. Looking back to see if the camp had stirred, she smiled knowing she was completely alone. The stones in her hand flew across the lake, skipping once, twice, a third, and sometimes even a fourth time. On her lucky nights, she could get at most six. This was not one of those times, however. But the fourth skip that came from her hand made her smile with a sense of peace.

"What are you doing?" a voice interrupted from the reeds.

Ferelith did not turn but gripped her stones a bit tighter. If she threw them in his direction, perhaps he would go away. But no, she clenched them and the sound of his footsteps grew close.

"Skipping stones," she answered flatly.

"Well, your skipping is disrupting my peace and quiet."

She did not answer, throwing a stone into the air and catching it, her thoughts dwelling on what he would do if one struck him in the head.

"Do you know how obnoxious that splashing is?"

Again, she threw the stone up in the air, a smile creeping onto her face as she imagined it skipping right onto his temple. But the stone did not come back down. Astarion had come around her, and she underestimated his nimbleness. He held the rock up to her, a stern look on his face.

"I believe that's enough," he said, his voice low as if he had won.

Ferelith reached into her pocket pulling out three more stones. She smiled at him, turning back to the lake and skipping the next stone. He groaned with slumped shoulders, his face exasperated and filled with agitation.

"What is the point?" he shouted after her when he noticed her striding away.

"You throw them," she called over her shoulder.

"You- I _know_... with all the flames in the Nine Hells..."

The sound of shifting rocks and the sloppy squishing of boots followed behind her. Astarion came walking, rather awkwardly, up next to her, full of huff and ready to spout whatever nonsense he had. Before he could speak, Ferelith held up her rock.

"You hold it like this," she showed him, her thumb and index finger cradling the flat stone. "And you throw it from your hip. But you have to spin it... so it skips across the water."

And she tossed it. Astarion watched as it bounced three times before dipping down.

"Hardly an impressive feat," he snarled.

"Then you try it," she retorted with crossed arms.

He looked down at the rock he had stolen from her, turning it over with his finger tips. What a silly game for people who didn't know of luxury and leisure. It was ridiculous for her to even suggest he would be slightly interested. And it wasn't that he couldn't do it, because he most certainly could... but he didn't want to lower himself to that sort of stature. Then again... the condescending look Ferelith gave him made him pause. He placed his fingers on the rock as she had showed him. He looked up as she gave an approving nod. Turning to the lake, he cursed under his breath. Then he threw it.

It skipped once... twice... three times... and then sunk into the depths.

Ferelith was careful about observing his reaction. His eyes grew wide with excitement, a smile forming... but then quickly fading. His hands fell to his lap with a quick disapproving shake of his head.

"See?" he leaned toward her. "Nothing to it."

"It's relaxing," she handed him the rest of the rocks in her pocket.

Astarion looked down at them, all unique in their own way. Some were dark. Some were slick. There was one he found with a hole in the center. He picked that up and tucked it into his pocket. It would be of use later on. As for the rest, he looked at puzzled but realized Ferelith was searching the bank for more. She had a keen eye as she had already picked up three amidst his confoundment.

"Why did you give these to me?"

"I don't know," she said, brushing her long black hair over her shoulder as she stared at the ground. "As uptight as you are, maybe you'd enjoy skipping a few."

"Uptight," he grimaced. "I'm sorry _you're_ the one that has been unpleasant to deal with as of late."

"Have I ever been pleasant?" she glanced up at him.

Astarion could not tell if she was teasing or not. And she knew it best that it remain a mystery. She was right, however. Ferelith was not an easy person to cope with. Her demeanor was misanthropic, often resulting in a night spent alone. Not that anyone else in the camp was talkative, but Ferelith was damn near close to the bottom of the list. The only one who had gotten a word from her was Gale. And Astarion felt that tinge, that stab of jealousy each time he could get a sentence from her. But as he could recall, other than that, no. She was not pleasant. Not for the last few nights, at any rate. And she took his silence as an agreement to that.

"I won't tell anyone," she straightened up, finally having enough rocks in her hands.

"Why would you tell anyone?" his tone mocked her.

Again, she shrugged, but knew he would squirm if she even mentioned he was near her for longer than five minutes doing anything but making an attempt to seduce her. And for a minute as she ignored his presence, she thought he had left. Then heard the gentle splash of a rock skipping a few times over the water from his hand. She turned in his direction with simple nod before proceeding with her own throws.

"Could you steal something for me?" she asked suddenly, disrupting the silence.

The shock of her question caused him to look at her, just to to assure himself that it came from her very mouth. She did not acknowledge him. And though he wasn't entirely convinced, he was certain she said it.

"I didn't know we were close enough to be asking favors, my dear," he retorted.

"We're not," her tone was harsh. "But the idol... could you steal it?"

"From the druid camp?" his arm lowered. "My, my... we are spiteful, aren't we?"

Eyes closed, clenched fists, and a deep sigh. "Yes."

"I had no idea," his chin lifted, somewhat proud of her response. "I most certainly could steal for you."

"We'll go back. Tomorrow. And we'll take it."

"I'm offended you had to ask. I mean, if a simple child could five finger the thing, then surely-"

"Your capabilities were never in question," the harshness in her voice made him tense.

Ferelith's manner was calm, cool like the steam rising off the lake. Her eyes were focused, but knew they were elsewhere. If he could link to her now, he wondered what he would see. There was something dark to the sage. Something that reeked of death. He could see it when he looked into her eyes. She had known torment. The way she spoke of deception was proof of that. And watching her now, he knew a second side of her was dipping into those shadows to pull out whatever trick it had. He became... delighted.

"Of course not," he grinned. "But I don't do anything for free. As I mentioned before, we aren't friends... yet."

"Your price?"

Quick and to the point, the way he liked. But he had to think for a moment. Coin was not viable, as they had none. Instead, he needed something that would give him an ounce of joy.

"For now, let's settle on the satisfaction of my curiosity."

Ferelith had finally paused to give him her attention. It was the highlight of his night. He saw her for what she truly was: a wood elf, dark hair down her shoulders, pale eyes nearly glowing and piercing through dark, cold lips pressed into a firm frown, and steady breaths to calm her ferocity. Like a stag ready to charge.

"Why do you want to steal the idol? Haven't you already agreed to search for their missing leader?"

"I'll be blunt."

"Please do."

"Kagha can rot," he saw her lip twitch as she said it, "and they fucking poisoned me."

"Good point," Astarion recalled the poison she had given him earlier that day. "I'm surprised you didn't kill them."

"I might be brash, but I'm not stupid."

"I'm only saying it because I most certainly would have," he flipped a rock over in his hand. "I meant no offense. Your composure is rather... impressive."

As the tension faded, Ferelith allowed a small chuckle fall between her lips.

"It's the skipping," she wiggled a rock in her hand as Astarion rolled his eyes.


End file.
